the song to end the party

all the single ladies in the room are you in love or lust
which could define you, do you ache to be touched
men are we the numbers, the ticks we're measured by
or are we undefined, undefined
children, lets act domestic, lets play 2nd mortgage on the house,
chain you to a rusted chevy motor, and let you gather a crowd
entertain and be tamed, play this raging game
perpetuate our "natural" roles
If we're stuck then we best fess up
it's a sickness to be something you're not
If we're stuck then we best fess up
it's an illness I haven't got

I'm vein and stained

if you don't believe god's pissing on you, just taste the rain, but divinity grants no stains
if you don't believe you're into yourself, count your mirrors, and claim your vein

harry partch

hammer and nail, glass blown to shape pitch, if a man can reshape orchestration we can reshape this/ a first stroke dry, we'll dip the second try, a promise to ourselves, we'll pen the night/ under a willow in spring, we can count the leaves colored green/ under a willow in spring, we can count where we've been/under a willow in spring, we can count the innocence lost/we'll be in bigger cities by then, under a willow in spring/ on the top of the bottom of youth, we'll be the friars of stale news/ Pennsylvania girl you can't sue over what you didn't lose, it's sad, say sadness, won't touch the touched again/ under a willow in spring, we can count where we've been/under a willow in spring, we can count the innocence lost/we'll be in bigger cities by then, under a willow in spring/